The Life and Death of Rabastan Lestrange
by Fire The Canon
Summary: A story beginning at his birth, and ending with his death! Non-graphic death.


_**Written for the Greek Mythology Competition (The Moirai: write a fic chronicling the life and death of a character)**_

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 **The Life and Death of Rabastan Lestrange**

He was born in the middle of winter, coming into the world one cold evening.

His birth left little to be desired, with his father already pleased with his first son, Rodolphus. He had an heir, so what little more could another son do? Growing up, Rabastan constantly heard his father wish for a daughter.

"Someone I could marry off to another man and get their fortune, too."

Despite Rabastan's father, he was loved dearly by his mother. Even at birth, he'd been little, and as a small boy he'd not grow much. His mother fed him enough to feed an army, and he ate it all. But his thinness soon worried her.

"Something's not right," she said one evening, speaking to his father, but with Rab and Rod in the room as well. "He's too thin."

His father, flicking through the evening edition of the _Daily Prophet,_ snorted. "Send him away, love. He's sending us broke."

Rabastan hid after that, taking his father's words seriously. He was found an hour later, cowering in a toy box in the playroom.

"I won't let Father send you away, Rab," Rodolphus said. "Neither will Mother."

Although he was nothing but a money waster to their father, he was important to his brother and his mother. On the day Rodolphus boarded the train for his first day at Hogwarts, he looked at Rab with a pained expression.

"I'll send you letters," he promised, hugging him tightly. "You'll be here soon, don't worry."

But his thinness still continued to worry his mother. Although he was prone to small outbursts of accidental magic ever few months, his father still compared him to Rodolphus.

"You're a disgrace! Rodolphus was putting Mudbloods under trees by your age. What's wrong with you?"

"He's unwell," his mother said. "I must get him looked at by a Healer."

But the Healer found nothing wrong. He was just a thin boy with little magic. Rabastan had been hoping for something to seriously be wrong. At least that would be an explanation for his father.

Instead, he lived the next two years in his brother's shadow, constantly being compared to all the 'great things' Rodolphus was doing at school.

Rod would write home regularly, talking about how he'd managed to make friends with a good sort. There was a Bellatrix Black and a Lucius Malfoy, and they all believed in the mission a man known as Voldemort believed in (though he kept that part secret from his parents).

"Good names," Rabastan's father grunted, reading the latest letter. "Always said that about the Blacks and the Malfoys."

Rabastan hoped he'd be able to make friends with that sort too.

And two years later, it happened.

"Hmph. Got your letter, I see."

Almost resigned to the fact of living the rest of his life as a Squib, Rab was elated when he received a letter with the Hogwarts seal on it. He tore it open, scanning the parchment. He'd been accepted!

"S'pose we better get your stuff, then." It wasn't with the enthusiasm his father had welcomed Rodolphus' acceptance into Hogwarts, but Rab noticed a hint of pride hidden away behind his father's eye. Or maybe it was just relief.

He was immediately sorted into Slytherin, and Rodolphus took him under his wing.

"My baby brother," he said brightly, introducing him to the others.

Bellatrix Black grinned at him. "Maybe we need to catch you up with the happenings around here. Ever heard of the Unforgivable Curses?"

Rabastan returned her grin. It had been easier than he'd expected.

The school years went by quickly for Rabastan. Unlike his home life, he swiftly become somebody to envy amongst his classmates. Unlike them, he was accepted into the reputable group involving Rodolphus Lestrange and Bellatrix Black.

Many tried to be friends with him so they could join too, but Rab liked the wanting from them.

He left them wanting.

When the others finished school, each getting jobs of their own and secretly doing the bidding of the Dark Lord at other times, Rabastan was left to hold the fort. He was a sixth year now, renowned for his twisted views and troublesome behaviour.

Now that the others had left more willing students took their places. Antonin Dolohov, Fenrir Greyback.

Rabastan was their leader.

Home sucked for him, however. Rodolphus was accepted into a Ministry position where he'd have some influence over the Minister himself. This pleased their parents, but Rab doubted they knew just what their sons did while at school.

They rightfully despised Mudbloods, but the Dark Lord was somebody who appealed to the younger generation. His parents lived in a world where they were head of their household: enough to keep them happy.

On holidays, Rabastan often heard them talk of the Dark Lord like he was somebody of fiction. They liked the idea of him, but they disliked the way he recruited. They were oblivious to their sons' own recruitment, and Rab was happy for it to stay that way. Maybe when they realised the true power the Dark Lord possessed, they would be welcoming of it.

Seventh year was by far Rabastan's favourite. Slytherin house was a force to be reckoned with; it's reputation high. He was to blame. Other houses feared them, turned the other direction in the corridors to avoid running into them.

Rab was so filled with power that when a letter arrived from Rodolphus a week out from his final exams, he cared little.

 _Rab,_

 _Father fell ill last night and did not make it through this morning. It was quick and painless. His funeral will be next week. More details to come._

 _Rod_

There was a small pang in his stomach over the news, but Rabastan's father had never cared for Rabastan. Not like he'd cared for Rodolphus. His dislike had caused Rab to care little in return. He tossed the letter aside.

When Hogwarts finished, he was dragged to a small out-skirted cottage in a forest in Ireland somewhere. Rodolphus had a ginormous grin on his face, and Rab started to get butterflies.

This was it. This was the moment he swore his allegiance to the Dark Lord. Like Rodolphus and Bellatrix and Malfoy before him, he was going to be branded. It was not only a mark to let everyone know who he served, but also a silent way for the Dark Lord to communicate. If he wanted them, he'd call through the brand.

A genius method.

It was agonising. He screamed and cried, shamefully, as Rod and Bellatrix held him down. The Dark Lord showed no remorse at the pain he was causing, but simply continued with the process.

"Do you, Rabastan Lestrange, swear absolute loyalty to I, Lord Voldemort, your Master? Do you promise never to use my true name, for it should be feared? Do you swear to address me as the Dark Lord and do you promise to do all I command?"

"I…d-do," Rabastan whimpered. His arm burned.

The Dark Lord smiled. "Rise, Rabastan."

Rab got clumsily to his feet.

"Welcome."

A little pain for a lifetime's pleasure, so Rabastan saw it. He kept the Mark a secret from his mother. When she passed three years later, she knew neither of her sons to be supporters of the great Dark Lord. They never told her, and she never asked.

He was itching to go out and do his master's bidding, and when a moment came, he went willingly.

A prophecy had been foretold, and one of the new recruits, Severus Snape, gave the Dark Lord the grave news. A child barely a year old was to be his downfall. This both shocked and shook those around him.

The Dark Lord – the most powerful wizard in the world – was to be taken down by a child? It seemed ridiculous, but their master took it seriously. He ordered the children to be investigated, where only two boys came back as potential threats.

Harry Potter, son of Lily and James Potter. They had begun school much later than Rabastan, but he knew them to be part of Dumbledore's secret group – Order of the Phoenix. The other was Neville Longbottom. His parents were renowned Aurors and also members of the Order.

The Dark Lord considered his threat to be the Potter boy, but he took no chances.

Rabastan was going to get information from the Longbottoms.

Bellatrix did most of the work, but Rabastan was proud to admit that he played a big part in sending Alice and Frank Longbottom insane. He'd restrained Frank, making him watch his beloved wife waste away to nothing, before Bellatrix turned her wand onto him.

Following the news of their emission into St Mungo's, the Dark Lord rewarded them all greatly. Not on gold, for that was worthless when living as servant to the Dark Lord. No, they were now considered his most esteemed followers; those he could trust with his most delicate problems.

It was an honour Rabastan would take to his grave. He would serve his master unconditionally for the rest of his life.

And then the unthinkable happened. It _had_ been the Potter boy, but the prophecy had not been stopped. He'd destroyed the Dark Lord – a baby!

 _Harry Potter_.

Over the next few years Rabastan would learn to despise the boy. Not for destroying his master, but for destroying his home, his livelihood, his everything.

He had a purpose serving. He was in high esteem with everyone around him. His brother was now husband to Bellatrix Black. They were all family.

Others denied their loyalties to save their own necks. They claimed to be under the Imperius, when Rabastan knew they were simply frightened. Malfoy was one of them. He had a kid now, and would deny any association with the Dark Lord.

Rabastan refused. He knew his master would return one day, for he knew his master's secrets. He could not have died. Fifteen years in Azkaban would be worth the rewards he'd get when the Dark Lord returned.

The Dementors did not affect his brother or sister-in-law, for they had plenty to live for. Their loyalty kept them going.

Others were driven insane in the prison, and perhaps they were too. Bellatrix's eyes grew a manic look about them, and Rod had a permanent sneer on his face now.

Rab didn't feel changed. He simply longed to be reunited.

He felt the Mark sting fourteen years later. Bellatrix's breath stopped for a moment as she felt it too.

There was a moment where they all looked at each other and smiled.

He was back. They'd suspected for months now, but that was the call. They would be forgiven, because they could not reach their master. But would the others? Would Malfoy? The Dark Lord would know of his betrayal.

A year later and they were out. A genius plan by the Dark Lord had them out, and they were free.

The fresh air and the freedom of walking again filled them with power. As expected Rab was rewarded for his loyalty, and they were soon causing havoc amongst the wizarding population once more.

It was bigger and better than last time, for the Dark Lord was bigger and better. He was stronger, and now realised where he'd gone wrong in trying to kill the boy. The wizarding population were in denial, meaning they were free to kill in the name of Voldemort.

For Rabastan, it was like breathing in fresh air for the first time. He was free to do as he pleased, doing what he was born to do: serve and kill.

The final battle took place at Hogwarts, and the Dark Lord knew all the secrets. He knew how to kill the boy. They thought him dead in the Forbidden Forest, but then somehow, he lived. They fought some more.

And to Rabastan's utter horror, his master was destroyed.

The _immortal_ Dark Lord, the master Rabastan knew the most delicate secrets of, destroyed. But how? Rabastan knew of his mission to keep himself alive, of what he had done to ensure it. Had the boy truly discovered the secret?

And just like his master, the boy rose to power. Not in the same sense, of course. He changed things 'for the better'.

The better for who? Rabastan was forced into hiding along with his brother. They grieved little for the loss of Bellatrix, for it had been but a marriage of convenience. She had power, and Rab and Rod sought power.

Death Eaters were hunted down, tortured for information, then thrown into prison.

Rab stayed on the run, refusing to give himself up. Even when Rod was dragged away kicking and screaming, Rabastan stayed put.

It lasted for five years. He heard of his brother's imprisonment and eventual death. Many times he wished to grieve, to mourn the loss, but he knew it impossible.

He moved through Britain, France, and eventually settled in a small village in Austria. There he spent the remainder of his life, living with Muggles, pretending to be the kind he despised.

Eventually, it got too much. They were pathetic people, useless in their ways. Just like his master, he snuck through their village at night and killed every single man, woman and child. Muggle authorities were confused, for no mark was left. Austrian wizarding authorities arrested him three days later.

He was sent back to Britain, trialled, and for the first time in their history, a wizard was sentenced to death.

Rabastan lived to be fifty-six years old. He out-lived his brother, Bellatrix, and many other loyal followers. They would be proud of him, and in death, he would see them again, where he'd serve his master for eternity.

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 _ **Amber gave me the character, which was interesting, as I've never written Rabastan before, so most of this was developing scenarios in his life as I went. It was fun, though!  
**_

 _ **Please leave a review if you read it - I'd love to hear your thoughts :)**_


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